Caught
by SlenderStalker
Summary: Marble Hornets fanfiction, rated M for later chapters, please enjoy!  I'm not good at summaries, ehehe.
1. 1

⊗**1⊗**

I've never been this frightened... Well, that may be an over exaggeration, I tend to do that a lot, but you have to understand that I really can't remember the time that I've been this scared. No matter what I try, memory gaps stay ever present in my life. I've gave it my best effort to try and fix this problem, but to no avail. So I stopped while I was ahead in my own game. I've never acted like this in my life. Running through darkened hallways, constantly glancing back. Jumping over and adverting things that weren't actually there. Taking every hiss my dear cat mutters as a warning sign. Shutting the windows and blinds to make sure no peering eyes make their way into my establishment. Even on the upper floors, where it was quite unlikely that anyone would be looking through, I made sure that not even the slightest crack saw the light of my room. Every chance I got, I made the room I was in completely filled with the comforting, florescent glow of my lamps. You never know when...he... could be standing there, your body and mind blissfully unaware of the mighty being until it was to late.

I'm lying here now, with every light on in the room. It's a hot summer day, but I don't dare open any windows. Not even a chance do I take with a fan, the noise would cover any stealthy footsteps. I'm exhausted and ready to go to bed, but I need two last components to aide in a restful sleep tonight: sleeping pills and a camera, all ready for the night's recording. When I wake up tomorrow, I'll scan the hours of footage, watching as intent as a hawk for a glimpse of... him.

I've seen him before... the Operator. Even when I was a child, the being was there, seemingly omnipresent. Looking over my shoulder, watching me, stalking, waiting... Quickly, I learned the signs of when he was nearby: Ringing ears, internally cold, and now it had even evolved into severe coughing fits. Sometimes I would even draw my hand from my mouth and find a few specks of blood smeared into the folds of my hands.


	2. 2

⊗**2⊗**

Is it funny that I think I know exactly how I'm going to die? I guess it just a feeling, but it feels almost like an inevitable thought... Would you like to know how? I'm going to die by getting stabbed. Some sort of murderer is going to grab my skinny neck and stab me until my very last bloody breath. Images wander into my head of a masked man that I swear I've seen before, and he wants me dead. I can't do anything, it's going to happen anyways. Besides, he has the Operator on his side.

And it's probably bad that I'm expecting to die before I'm fifty. No, scratch that. I _want_ to die before I'm fifty. Not only that, but it feels... Natural. I'm expecting it. Perhaps I've corrupted my brain with thoughts about death that I picked up from countless horror movies. Or maybe... I can even predict this kind of thing. I feel like I've been very connected lately. Just with small things, like predicting almost exactly the things people are about to say. But even as small a feat that is, it's still something.

Sometimes I don't feel in control of my mind or body. One day I'll feel like I'm perfectly fine, and everything is so vivid, and _real. _I'll feel like an actual person, in control of everything. I won't give a second thought about anything except what's happening at the moment. Then the next day I'll feel completely out of it. Like I'm in a dream, or a movie, just watching with some amusement at what is happening around me. It's like nothing I'm doing or saying is actually me doing or saying things. Almost like someone else is in control, like I'm just a puppet. Other days, however, my mind and body feel completely split. I'll feel like I'm only in my mind and this body is not really mine. Every nerve feels numb... frozen. Or... I'll feel in complete control of my actions, but my mind and what I'm thinking is simply not me.

I'm a masochist. Maybe it's the out of body feeling I feel so often that makes me want pain. Because pain is never really felt in dreams. Pain is a real life sort of thing. Blood... helps. Seeing it makes me so adrenaline hyper, it's almost as if I'm on a roller coaster. It's so real, when everything else around me seems almost... staged. Like everyone is an actor. Events are planned. Is this what 'Fate' is like? Because it feels like no matter what I do, everything works out for me in the end. Is that why I look for trouble? Wishing I lived by myself and taking walks in the dead of night in my dark as hell neighborhood? Watching horror movies and searching for reasons to be afraid? Is this normal, like a thrill seeking experience? Or something more...? As soon as I had wandered into the 'know' about the existence of the Operator, I want him to... kill me. I wanted to be near trees, and even looked for him. I put myself in front of danger to feel the real life pain of deep, deep fear.

I know I would never find him, he is only visible to cameras... and to those he is about to kill. I've seen him before though, just once. A tall shadow that flickers on the edge of my mind's eye. Only once have a gotten a good glance. It was years ago, I was a child no taller than three feet. Laying in a make-shift fort facing the door to the hallway, my best friend and I slept. However, I felt like there was something wrong. Everything was dark, except for the light coming in right through my doorway from the hall. I awoke, and saw something that has stayed with me to this day. A pair of legs, just standing there. Tall legs, I couldn't really see anything else. Legs dressed in all black. I had no idea what they were there for, and being as small as I was, it's not like I would go up to them. My conscious kept me in bed, and I slowly fell asleep. In the morning, I told everyone. They shrugged it off and told me I had a very creative mind.


	3. 3

⊗**3⊗**

My brother is such a down to earth person, so literal and realistic. He reminds me that this is real life, not my own little fantasy... or nightmare. But then I get sucked back down. Back into this waking dream, and I don't think I'll ever really get it. I don't think, even if I tell myself over and over again that this isn't a story, I'll ever come to face reality. Someday my life will depend on facing it, and I'll just laugh, thinking I'll get out of the situation without a scratch. And I'll have a one-person funeral procession in the forest.

And the Operator will be there, that one 'person'.. I can almost feel him, getting closer day after day. Hiding in the shadows, just waiting to pounce. And pounce he will, I can feel it. I'm read for that day, mentally. But, I'm not actually ready, I know myself too well. I know that as soon as he appears from the deep shadows he is hiding in, I'll be immobilized by fear and adrenaline coursing through my icy cold veins. Maybe I'll run, but I know he'll catch up. Running has never been a strong point of mine. I've never handled a knife before, or a gun, so I won't be able to defend myself that way. Nor can I fight him off. Due to recent depression and paranoia, I have found it hard to eat properly and exercise at all. So now I'm waiting for that day, dreading that moment, for I'm sure it will be my last.

And come for me he did. Well, not as himself, of course. He sent the masked man. In the middle of the night, no less. What else would I have expected? I'm sure he wouldn't take the risk of being seen in broad daylight. And of course, I was in the middle of sleeping, my night vision camera propped dutifully at the side of my small bed. When I felt a light brush across my shoulder, and I started awake, I was very groggy and disillusioned. I had taken many sleep aiding pills, and I had no idea what was happening. I batted at the strange man with weak, feeble arms. He quickly snatched them and tied them up tight behind my back, making my wrists ache. He did the same with my ankles, making me immobile. I still couldn't grab a glance at his face, it was just a white and black blur. I frowned a bit, unconsciously. I wanted to see if he was like the man in my dreams. Before I even had the chance to, however, a black blindfold was placed over my eyes. Did he not want me to know where he was taking me? I guess that way, I couldn't find my way back. If I was still alive, that is.

Though I was still in shock, and the only sound I had been able to make was a muffled gasp, he stuffed an uncomfortable gag in my mouth. I squirmed around in a last attempt to get away, but I realized it was futile as strong arms draped me over a jacketed shoulder. The last thing in my ears was my heart beat, hard and fast, as the world faded away.


	4. 4

⊗**4⊗**

Now I'm laying here on a carpeted floor, still gagged and bound, although the blindfold had been removed from my eyes. It now lays loose around my neck. The masked man is in a chair, sitting right across from me. Staring. I look back at him, unsure what else to do. He was completely silent, and the empty buzz coming from the computer in the room was unnerving. He was almost inhuman, a mask stuck tightly on his face. Did he ever take it off? The mask itself was all white, presumably plastic. The lips were painted black, as were the nostrils and a thin border around the very edge of the mask. What was the freakiest of the mask, however, were the eyes. Huge circles of black had been painted over where any sort of slit for his eyes would be, almost reaching the black line on the edge of the mask. The worst part about it was the absence of any eyes what so ever behind the mask. A normal mask would have a least shown a bit of emotion, as most masks show the eyes behind slits. But no, no emotion was shown, no eyes, and no mouth was visible to smile or frown with. The only thing that held a bit of fake emotion was the small, thick, highly arched eyebrows painted delicately above the 'eyes'.

As he stared at me intently from across the room, I broke eye connection and glanced around the small room. It was messy, small, and uncomfortable. There was fairly large desk with an old personal computer sitting on it, the screen flickering and making odd noises, like frequency. Every other bit of furniture had been torn apart and flipped around, like someone was looking for something. The bed frame stood empty, the bare mattress thrown up and was now leaning between the frame and the wall. There was a medium sized window, dirty, and covered by a thin, white sheet. Pills and cartridges lay strewn across the dresser, accompanied by unmarked, clear bottles of water. I gulped, thinking about my dry throat. I wanted some, but I would never ask the masked man, I was even to afraid to clear my throat in front of him. When I had finally struggled up into a sitting position, the man had moved even closer, the masked face staring right into my eyes, a foot away. I felt like an animal, trapped in the head lights of a car. Fear sparked through me, making my heart hammer. What was he planning on doing? I shook from fear, and he laid a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away, expecting him to start strangling me. I shook harder, involuntarily. He, however, just moved his hand around my back, and pulled me closer to him. I glanced up in surprise, my eyes widening as his hand slipped down to my waist. 'Mmhph...?' I managed to choke out past the gag, my cheeks blushing furiously. I had never had a stranger be this close to me, and it made me nervous.

Suddenly, he reached back at my neck, and I instantly leaned away, thinking once again that he was going to choke me to death. However, he just pulled me back closer to him, his powerful grip making sure I wouldn't move around too much. The cloth around my neck went back up around my eyes, and fear raced through me. He tied it tight, and then got back up for a minute. I wondered what he was up to when I heard the rustling of clothes, and then a slight thud on the ground like his jacket had come off. Soon I heard a sharp zip, and I realized exactly what his intent was. After what I presume was the pair of jeans he was wearing hit the floor, I heard him take off his mask, and lay it down on the wooden dresser. The bottle of pills rattled, and a plastic bottle crinkled in his grip. By the time he had swallowed a couple of the pills, I was shaking again, silently sobbing. He came over, his feet padding softly on the floor. Suddenly I felt him climbing over me, then straddling my mid-section. Tears dripped down my face and I turned my head away from him, afraid of what was going to happen next.

He reached out again, but grabbed my chin in his soft, but cold, hand. I heard the bottle and the pills again, and he forced a large pill into the back of my mouth, then carefully tipped the water back. I swallowed, wanting to comply, in case he still wanted to hurt me, or even kill me. Another pill, I swallowed it, and calmed down again after a few minutes. I didn't want to be calm, I wanted to strike back, and not let this happen, but the pills had done something strange. Suddenly, I could feel everything, sharp, to the point and real. And it calmed me down, I stopped crying, and my heart slowed. He was seemingly pleased by this result, and his arms were around me again. His hands trailed up and down my body, and it sparked a certain heat all over, the feeling heightened by the pills. Then he was leaning in against me, and he pulled the gag gently out of my mouth. Before I could even mutter a word, his lips were connected to mine. At first I resisted, holding my own lips against my teeth. But eventually, I gave in, letting his tongue slip into my mouth. At that moment I let go, enjoying the feeling too much. I sucked at his tongue, and his hands moved up to my neck, pleased that I was finally relaxed.

Without warning, he pulled away. I let out a tiny whimper, one that was pent up from the entire time the gag was in my mouth. His weight left the top of me as he got up, and I heard him putting his mask back into place. Then he pulled out a drawer in the dresser by the bed, and rummaged around for something. As soon as he had recovered the item, he slipped the cloth around my eyes back down. I saw that he was wearing nothing but his underwear, and there was a rather large bulge in them. I lowered my gaze, blushing furiously as I felt my arousal flaring up again. I watched as he walked over to the mattress leaning against the wall and placed it down on the ground. Then, picking me up by the waist, he dragged me over to it and, rather forcefully, shoved me down onto the slightly bouncy, but surprisingly comfortable, mattress. He was on me in a second, straddling my waist again, slipping his hand lower and lower down to my thigh, the entire time gauging my reaction with his emotionless, silent eyes. I gasped and then moaned when his hand reached between my legs and he started rubbing two fingers around the area. He then suddenly reached to grab something small and silver that he had gotten from the drawer. Through the fog of pleasure in my brain I realized that he was up to something, and before I could look over, there was a sharp, piercing pain on my left shoulder. I cried out, moving my head and saw that he was carving an unknown thing into my skin, pain mixing with the lingering pleasure. I saw the blood dripping down onto the floor, and it only made me feel more light-headed and yet more aroused. By the time he finished with it, I felt as if I was going to faint. My heart beat pounded through my ears and my arm, the wound aching every time blood gushed out. The masked man quickly tore a long strip of fabric and wrapped it all around my arm, and gripped the bit above it to stop the bleeding quickly. He dipped his fingers into the blood still trickling down my arm, and reached up to his mouth, lifted the bottom of his mask up, and licked at the red fluid. I blacked out, the world fading, once again, into nothing, as his endless eyes bore like a drill into my skull. Just before I lost everything, I swear I heard him whisper in a honey-sweet voice, '_You... are... mine..'_


	5. 5

⊗**5⊗**

I woke up, curled into a ball in his arms. He was as strong as ever, even in his sleep. My right arm was draped across his muscular chest, and I couldn't feel my left arm. I started to wonder why, then remembered exactly what he had done. I shuddered, and my head started to pound. I guessed that was an after effect of the pills, and I was just glad that he had done something to numb my arm. He was facing me, still wearing his mask, and I wondered whether he was actually asleep or not. I glanced down at his sides and saw that he was breathing deeply. I shifted around, seeing if I could wake him, and pain shot through my thighs. I whimpered, guessing that he hadn't stopped when I blacked out. At least he had untied my wrists and ankles, but there were red burn marks, he had tied them so tightly. Sighing shakily, I wondered how I was going to get out of this situation.

At my sigh, the man shifted slightly, waking up. He was as silent as ever. His thumb brushed against my jaw, comforting but still so alien. It had been dawn when I had arrived at this place, and the light was just starting to fade out of the sky. I stared awkwardly at the man in front of me, and he eventually got up, motioning that I should stay there. I nodded gratefully, not wanted to walk around. He disappeared from sight, and shut the door behind him. I then heard sounds of a chair sliding across the floor, and it was jammed up under the door knob. He didn't trust me, and for good reason. I wanted to get out of here more than anything else at the moment. Even though I knew that the door and the window, which were both inaccessible at the time, were my only way out, I still wanted to take a look around the darkening room. The still-flickering computer screen lit up the room for short intervals, and even though my entire body ached, I pulled myself up with my uninjured arm.

I limped around the room, but soon realized I wouldn't be able to lift anything up in this state, and plopped back down on the bed, bouncing slightly. I started to wonder why only my arm was completely numb, while everything else was aching, when something glimmered on the edge of my sight. It was a needle, completely empty of whatever numbing agent had been in it. I looked down at my arm, and realized that right above my wound was a tightly tied piece of cloth. That would have stopped the bleeding and prevented the agent from spreading anywhere else, but if left on for too long, would surely have some nasty consequences. Just as I started to undo the knot, the masked man shuffled into the room. He saw what I was trying to do, and shooed my hand away, and flipped out a switch blade. Quickly slicing through the material, I could feel a heart beat in my shoulder and arm, and just as quickly, the numb feeling spread. Soon I couldn't feel anything, and it was such a relief, the only bad thing being that the wound had started trickling blood again. How deep had he cut? And what exactly kind of thing had he carved? He grabbed my right arm, careful not to hurt me, and hauled me up to a standing position. Due to the numbness, I wobbled a bit, but he draped my good arm over his shoulder and we made our way over to the door.

We soon reached another door, a bit down the hallway, and he ushered me in. It was a small bathroom, with a sink, a toilet, a mirror, and a fairly large bathtub considering the size of the room. To my surprise, there was still running water, although, the lights didn't work. I wondered how the computer could be on, and I came to the conclusion that it was somehow battery powered. Or even, it was only his room that got electricity. He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a large, high powered flashlight. Setting it on the toilet lid, he ran water until it was warm, then pushed the plug into the drain. When it had filled up, he stepped over to me and started pulling off my shirt. I protested a bit, pushing his hand away, but he just got more insistent and I finally just let him. He took everything off slowly, and even though I couldn't exactly feel things that well, it still got me fired up. I protested more when he got to my bra and finally my underwear, but he wanted them off, and nothing was going to stop him.

I stood there with my head down, while he stripped, excluding his mask, and hopped in. He offered me his hand, and I shook my head, standing there, cold and naked. I thought I heard him utter the smallest of sighs, and he leaned over and took ahold of my hand, pulling me into the bath anyways. The warm water felt good, and nearly forgetting where I was, I leaned into him. I shut my eyes and I heard him slip the mask up a little ways, and I felt him nibble on my neck, making my eyes widen and I let a moan slip out. He leaned back against the wall again, slipping his mask back on to his face. Soon after that, he peeled the seeping bandages off of my arm, and splashed it lightly with water. He grabbed a bar of soap and began lathering it against his own hand before gently massaging it into the still bleeding slashes. I shivered at the odd feeling, still numb, but a great enough pain to feel the slightest of tingles. The man splashed water again to rinse out the soap, and then urged me to stand up with him. Blood had made the bath water a light red, and he drained the water out as he started up the actual shower head, closing the white, plastic curtain. It was a bit cold at first, but changed quickly in a perfect temperature. He then left me in there, pointing to the soap, shampoo, and conditioner I could use to wash up.

I stepped out of the shower, flushed and dripping wet, and he wrapped a somewhat shabby towel around me. He picked up my clothes, and set me back in the bedroom. Through the walls, I could hear him step back into the shower, and I guessed that he didn't want me to see him without his mask. I sat on the mattress, drying my short, brown hair. I got back into my pajamas, and started to wander around the room, looking to see if there was some kind of blanket. The masked man had kept me warm as I slept through the afternoon, but now that it was night, the room was as cold as outside. I finally found a fairly large blanket and lay down just as he took the chair down from outside the door and stepped in. He instantly got in the bed with me, not even bothering to cloth himself. I turned away from him, embarrassed and as modest as always. He jumped at the chance, and pulled me closer to him. As he wrapped his arm around my waist, spooning me, he seemed to remember the wound and jumped up again to grab fresh bandaging. I hadn't noticed before, but he had brought up actual doctoral bandages from the store. I smiled a bit the for the first time that I was trapped in this place, and he put cotton gauze in between the cut and the wrappings. He tied it in place, leaning over me, and he placed the lips of the mask on my forehead, almost like a good night kiss. I was shocked by the sudden act of kindness, and let myself fall asleep with him hugging my backside.

When I awoke he was gone, and I almost missed the feelings of his arms... Wait... What did I just say? Do I really think that? I don't understand myself sometimes. I sighed and glanced out the bright window, noticing that it must have been about ten in the morning. I wondered where he had gone, when he suddenly appeared again, holding an apple and some bread. My stomach growled, and I remembered just how hungry I was. He urged me to take it, and he gingerly place the food in my outstretched hand. I murmured a shy 'Thank you...' At that, he patted my head, seeming glad for the small, but sweet, response. I took, small, polite bites at first, but in the end, my hunger took over. I devoured the apple and bread both in no time. I then noticed him staring at me again, almost obsessively. I felt unnerved again, and I didn't want to meet the emotionless gaze. It was silent in the room, and even the computer had stopped making angry, fizzing notes. The only thing that could be heard was my own breathing, the man making no noise as usual.

It was then that I realized he had left the room, and when he came back, he was holding a small mirror, not unlike the one in the bathroom. He slowly and carefully peeled off my bandages, noting with some satisfaction, that it had stopped bleeding so much sometime in the middle of the night. Now, a bubbly, brown scab covered most of the cuts. He put the mirror up to my arm so I could see what he had done: a circle with an oversized 'X' in the middle, all four ends of the 'X' sticking out of the circle. With no warning, though, he started picking at the scabs, tearing every lose bit of dried blood off as he could, until the whole thing started bleed again. I winced every time he tore at the healing skin, making uncomfortable hissing sounds, tears rolling down my cheeks. When he was done destroying what healing progress the wound had, he gently replaced the gauze and bandages, tying the ends tight again. Scaring was what he intended.

Noticing the moisture on my face, he quickly grabbed a bit of cloth laying on the floor and gently mopped up the tears. I was still shaking from the pain, and he hugged me apologetically, rubbing his hand up and down my back. As soon as I had calmed down, he put his mask back on, and tapped my shoulder, trying to get me to look at what he was pointing at. I glanced up and followed his gaze to the ceiling and the higher walls. I gasped then, seeing for the first time the hand drawn pictures covering the entire top of the room. Most of them had been drawn with charcoal pencils, giant circled 'X's, crude depictions of the Operator, and even the occasion 'he sees me' phrase. It scared me a bit, the sharp black and white angles of the sketches, but my eye couldn't help but be drawn to them. I touched my injured arm unconsciously, making the connection. "But... why?" I manged to say in almost a strangled voice, as I haven't spoken in awhile. I cleared my throat, looking to see if I would get any sort of response. All he did was point to a drawing of the Operator. I took that as a good enough answer, and didn't push it further. I began to wonder at this point if he's working with or against the Operator.


End file.
